


Meet Cute

by Ihopeitsbenign



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Complete, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihopeitsbenign/pseuds/Ihopeitsbenign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan and Reid meet for the very first time when Reid is the victim of a crime. Slightly AU. A Meet cute is a scenario in which two individuals are brought together in some unlikely, zany, destined to fall in love and be together forever sort of way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Cute

**Author's Note:**

> I have no affiliation to Criminal Minds or its characters. This is fiction pure and simple.

Morgan stretched out, snapping out a yawn then dropping back into the torturous curve of the bucket seat. The night nurse gave him a commiserative smile then refocused on her computer, rapidly tapping out the information of the endless entries being brought into the ER. Hard plastic edges dug into his spine and he gave up leaning forward, burying his face in his hands.

"Any word?"

"Nah." Scrubbing at his scruffy jawline, Morgan stared up at his boss. Hotch didn't look much better, both of them exhausted from the long wait. At least he'd brought coffee, hot steaming coffee. Reaching for the cup Morgan gulped down, hissing as he burned his tongue.

With a rough chuckle, Hotch settled next to him, picking up his iPad relearning the details of the case. It wasn't much. Since the latest victim had been found unconscious in an abandoned firehouse no other pertinent information had come forward.

Morgan thumbed his phone hoping Garcia would call with a break through but after the crime scene had been swept, the only fingerprints and DNA that had been found belonged to the victim. Spencer Reid. The unsub, Jacob Bryn had magically disappeared.

"While he bears more than a passing physical resemblance to the other victims, he is over ten years older." Hotch mused. "It is completely unheard of for a preferential offender to seek out older targets, they would hold no sexual appeal for him. And where does a 26 year old Applied Physicist meet a serial rapist and murderer?"

Morgan zoomed in on the only photograph they had on file with swipe of his fingers wondering the same thing. He traced the edges of Spencer Reid's smile. There was something about his face, an uncommon innocence and sincerity that called to him. "What if he was the primary target? The unsub could have been perfecting his craft on the others before he went after the man he really wanted."

"Something's off about this case. "Hotch flipped through the pages doubt lacing his voice. "All the other victims were teenagers, found dead twelve hours later after they were grabbed. Jacob Bryn kept him for at least _thirty_  hours. What's so special about Spencer Reid?"

"Apart from the fact that he survived? I don't know. He's really smart – off the charts IQ - maybe he found a way to talk him down."

"A modern day Scheherazade?" Hotch took a swig from his cup. "Even if that was remotely possible, it doesn't make sense that the unsub would just let him go."

"Maybe he reminded him of some one he once knew? A family member or a childhood friend? Could explain why he targeted him in the first place."

"Gentlemen?"

Both men stopped mid debate, shoving to their feet at the soft-spoken request by the doctor.

"How is he?"

"Awake." She shifted where she stood, looking unusually perturbed by the brutality of the crime. "He suffered blunt force trauma to the back of the head, multiple contusions to the face, chest and abdomen, a sore jaw, ligature marks on ankles and wrists, bruising on his neck consistent with repeated strangulation." She swallowed convulsively. "There is no definitive evidence of sexual assault since the patient rejected any penetrative tests so we are unable to determine the extent of any internal damage, if any, but he did consent to the post exposure prophylaxis…"

Hotch eyes met his, their thoughts syncing. Definitely rape. "Can we talk to him?"

"I don't think it's a good idea." She glanced between them. "After his ordeal, the last thing he needs is to be pressured by a couple of alpha males with badges."

"We understand." Morgan reassured. "He might be better off with a female agent but we are stretched thin at the moment. We've got no time to waste. There's a killer out there hunting children any information he gives us could make a difference."

"Fine. But only one of you."

"I'll go." Morgan volunteered.

Hotch blocked his path. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I can handle it. You know I can." Much as Morgan hated it, he knew his history made him uniquely capable to deal with this case and they both knew it. He exhaled when Hotch gave him a curt nod.

Edging into the brightly lit room, Morgan slowly approached the slight figure hunched over on the hospital bed. His pulse was racing, heart thundering in his chest. No matter how many times he did this he would never get used it. He saw himself in every broken victim; their pain was his pain, their struggles his struggles. He was sure he messed up his introduction falling one 'S' short of SSA Derek Morgan. The man on the bed enveloped in his own misery barely moved.

"Spencer." Morgan tried again. "Spencer Reid."

Bedclothes rippled, the man emerging with all the caution of a terrified turtle. Morgan swallowed his gasp. Taut milky white skin peeked through blotchy discolorations, stretched across high cheekbones. Red trembling lips ripped to shreds. Gone was the wide smile, in its place a haunted stare.

"Y-" Spencer squeezed his eyes shut then cleared his throat. "Ye-s Officer - Agent." His voice was a husky whisper like he'd been screaming for hours.

"Morgan is fine." Derek took a step forward freezing when the slim man jerked and started to shake.

"Sorry" He winced then apologized again pinning Morgan with huge hurt brown eyes. "I keep thinking this is a horrible dream – I just - I want to go home."

"I know you do but…"

"You need answers." Spencer finished. Sitting up straight he squared his shoulders. "I left the lab at 10:00pm like I do everyday. It took approximately seven minutes to get to my car. I didn't see or hear him until he was right behind me." Shuddering he pressed on. "I was excited, distracted by a breakthrough I had in my energy conversion experiment." He smiled.

Morgan could see the instant he remembered that something horrible had happened and he had no reason to smile. Spencer's face fell, that brief moment of happiness sucked into a black hole of utter devastation. He wanted to go to him, pull him into his arms, offer some form of comfort, promise him that he would survive it, all of it. Morgan would make sure of it.

"I heard the crunch on the ground when he stepped off the grass and I thought it was one of the other students. We all keep strange hours but…" He crossed his arms over his chest breathing shallowly, voice dropping in timbre. "He wore a mask, a clown mask. When I was a kid I stayed up late to watch this movie – everybody at my school had already seen it and I didn't want to seem like a baby. God the things you care about when you're nine." He rambled. "It was about a killer clown…"

"Pennywise?"

Spencer's head shot up. "Yes."

Morgan came forward, watching for any discomfort before perching at the bottom of his bed. "I was terrified of that damn clown too. Couldn't sleep for weeks after I saw it, my sisters wouldn't stop teasing about it."

Spencer gave him a wistful smile. "It must have been nice to have sisters."

Morgan was about to give him the token 'girls suck I wish I was an only child' speech then he remembered from the police file that Spencer  _was_  an only child, both parents deceased and it no longer seemed appropriate. "He was wearing that exact mask?"

"Yes." Reid crumpled in on himself rushing through the explanation. "I saw the syringe then I fell, couldn't move. I lost consciousness. When I woke I was in a basement – I think. I couldn't get a good look at his face or the room. He had surgical lights pointing at my face the - the entire time." He cracked rocking back and forth, bed squeaking. "I want to go home."

"Okay. Okay." Morgan could barely hear himself over the loud chattering of Reid's teeth. "Can you tell me anything else? What he was wearing? Height? Weight? Any distinct smells or sounds?"

"White male, black hoodie, black jeans, 6'2, about 200 lbs. I can't pin down the scent but it had chemical undertones and he had a tattoo, a scythe on his upper left arm."

Morgan stared agape at him his stylus poised over tablet. "That's impressive. Most people who've been through traumatic events lose large stretches of time."

"I have an eidetic memory." Spencer announced it as one would say they had blue eyes or were right handed, like it meant nothing at all. "Can I go now?"

Aching for him, Morgan jotted down the brief information. He had never met any one with an eidetic memory so he could only imagine what it was like to win the genetic lottery and have that blessing turn into a curse. Spencer would never forget what had happened to him. He would carry Jacob Bryn around for the rest of his life. The same way Carl Buford followed him, coloring every decision he ever made. Spencer might not know it but they were the same and while Morgan couldn't share that while he was part of an active investigation. He knew he would be back to see him the second they wrapped up the case because he looked as lost as Morgan felt.

Reaching into his back pocket, Morgan withdrew one of his cards and placed it in the space between them. "Call me if you need anything… If you want to talk or you need someone to check the closets or under the bed." Spencer's eyes welled up and he looked away. Idiot! Now you've reminded him of clowns. "Or we could toss a few balls around. There's a softball field near the BAU."

The other man gave him a watery grimace. "My body doesn't really do what I say."

Morgan could see that. He was all bony pointy edges and too pale skin. He needed someone to make him eat, and get some sun and smile. "We'll see about that." Morgan would make him happy again if it killed him. On his way out he turned back to say something, anything, needing more reasons to linger. He smiled relieved as he found the other man holding the embossed card, his long fingers running along the raised lettering, memorizing him. He would be back before Spencer knew it. He had to be.

xxXxx

Reid leaned over the large functional sink, splashing cool water on his swollen face, drops chasing down his arms. Four days after he'd been released from the hospital hadn't done much to reduce the resultant puffiness from the attack. Using the tip of his tongue he worried at a loose molar. Straightening he faced himself in the mirror deliberately ignoring the dark bruises scattered across his jaw, neckline and chest. He was leaning over, mouth open jiggling at the stubborn tooth when a flash of white stopped his heart.

Flipping towards the open doorway, he fumbled for the open razor clutching it in his right fist just as the bedroom light snuffed out. He backed up searching the darkness for the impending attack. When the ghoulish white and red mask rushed at him, he shrieked, hand slashing blindly at the air.

"Aw fuck!" The intruder yelled ripping the mask off his face. "What the hell man? You knew it was me."

Unconcerned, Reid turned back to the mirror now examining the pattern on his face. "Just getting into the spirit of the game the same way you decided to rearrange my jaw." He snapped.

"You said to make it believable." Grumbling, Jacob turned on the shower, blood from the six-inch cut hitting the white tile and swirling down the drain. "I was simply following orders."

"Yeah well we're done. I don't need you anymore."

'What?" Jacob started to fidget and pace, crimson dripping, the tic over his right eye going about a hundred. "What am I supposed to do? Who will help me?"

"Pick out your victims…clean up the crime scene…"

"Yes." Jacob replied, small and lost.

"Come on, Jakie." Reid put a special emphasis on the nickname knowing how much he hated it and how much Jacob's father had loved using it, slowly, sensually. "What would  _you_  do to meet the man of your dreams?"

"Dreams? You think you're in love with a man you saw as we fled the Watterson's  _six months ago_." Hysterical laughter poured out of him. "You're a psychopath that thinks he's in love with an FBI agent. It's fucking hilarious."

"Sociopath!" Reid drawled. "If you're going to insult me, get it right." His hand absently found the bloodstained blade. One swipe and this conversation would be over. But then he'd be truly alone. What was a puppet master without his puppet? He'd have to find another lonely, desperate man, one preferably on the brink of madness and then push him over the edge. And just when he'd broken Jacob in just right. With a small sigh, the blade clattered in the sink. "Go away until I call for you. I'll leave you a message in the obituaries."

Jacob pushed into his personal space. "You'll still love me the most right?" He begged.

Reid pulled him close, stroking his hair as Jacob tucked his face into the crook of his neck. He withheld his promises just incase. If his new relationship panned out the way he planned, he'd have to dispose of his pet. Boyfriends had come and gone since he was fifteen but so many of them hadn't lived up to expectation and he got so moody when he was disappointed. What he needed was a good man? One who had a soft spot for damaged people. One who'd love him and never leave him.

He had a very good feeling about Derek Morgan. It felt like they were meant to be.


End file.
